


Miss Lady Luck

by Stripe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gambling, Illustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stripe/pseuds/Stripe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="dave">wait wait hold up how are you winning money at vegas<br/>its like fucking soviet russia there<br/>you dont win money<br/>money wins you</span>
</p><p> <span class="john">well, guess i just found a good luck charm. ;) </span></p><p> <span class="dave">oh god dont tell me that atrocity of an emoticon means what i think it does<br/>you found a girl didnt you</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Lady Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the first round of the 2012 HSO, where the prompt was "gambling." It was kind of a perfect prompt for this pair, and I'd been wanting to write something along these lines anyways, so I just went with it. 
> 
> There were originally going to be two more illustrations to this, but I ran out of time, and after letting it sit, I realized I kind of liked leaving it with the two I did finish. 
> 
> Also I admit I am kind of tempted to do a companion piece to this, through Vriska's POV, but that will have to wait for a while. Perhaps in August!

You are John Egbert. It's a week after your 25th birthday, and you're spending it in Vegas. You've been planning this trip for months, cutting your spending so that you'd enough money for some serious gambling.

And right now, you are losing nearly all that money at blackjack. 

You aren't concerned, though. Your flight is already booked for tomorrow, and you're enjoying the atmosphere more than anything. The whole place is abuzz with the clanging and buzzing of slot machines, people bragging and laughing, and there's some jazz music you don't recognize layered on top. You could care less that the dealer's been winning most of the last hands. And it's to be expected; you're pretty sure these games are rigged. 

Still, you're about ready to leave. The other people at the table – a surly older couple – don't make for good conversation, and you'd at least like somebody to laugh to about your losing streak. 

Then she shows up. 

  


She looks like a villain out of some overblown action film you loved as a teenager. The hair, the eye patch, the slinky dress, the scar tissue on her arm; there's nothing about her that doesn't scream "danger." When you first catch sight of her, you can't look away. 

She takes the seat next to you and demands to be dealt in, and with a confident grin she puts more chips down on the table than you even have left. "Are you ready to see what a winner looks like?" she asks the table. Nobody answers her. 

The cards are dealt. 

She loses. 

"Pretty bold first move!" you point out, grinning. "Maybe a bit too bold, though?" You lost too, but you didn't bet as much, so you feel like you get bragging rights. 

She seems undeterred. "Just you wait." 

The bets go down again, and everybody loses the next hand, and the one after that. By now, you've got hardly anything left. You place your remaining chips on the table and laugh. "Looks like this is my last hand." 

"I wouldn't bet on it," she says. You think she winks at you, but it's hard to tell with the eyepatch. 

The next hand, the dealer busts – everybody wins. You look at her, and she's already grinning at you with a smile that could be the end of you if you let it. 

"What'd I tell you?" she asks as she stacks her chips. 

"Lucky guess!" you say, and she laughs heartily in response. 

From here, the game changes drastically. You still lose a hand or two, but you easily win nine out of ten, which you're certain is not how blackjack stakes are supposed to work. She cackles beside you after every hand she wins, as though this change in luck is her doing. For all you know, it might be. 

But quite suddenly, after losing a small amount on a single hand, she stands up and announces that she's done. "Ain't no more money here tonight!" 

And with that, she's gone. 

You only play a few more hands (you lose all but one) before you decide to leave as well. You tell yourself that you're going to head for the slot machines, just as a quick way to blow the rest of your spending money, but you don't believe it for a second. You begin to look for eyepatches. 

You spot her quickly, sitting at the bar as she feigns interest in one of the horse races. You jog over to the bar a little more quickly than you care to admit. 

"Hey!" you call. "You were amazing back there! I've never seen somebody win so much money at one game before!" 

She turns to look at you, smug. "Well, you've never met somebody like me before!" 

"Guess I haven't!" You take the seat next to her without asking. "My name is John, by the way. What's yours?" 

She takes a moment to size you up before answering. "Just call me Lady Luck." 

It's lame – really lame – but it's the kind of lame you love. It's the lame of Con Air, of Ghostbusters, of Armageddon. It's irresistible. So you pose your next question: 

"Well, ‘Lady Luck,' mind if I get you a drink?" 

\----

When you wake up the next day, the sun's already high in the sky, and you wonder glumly why the hotel didn't give you the wakeup call you ordered. You let out a groan and sit up, reaching instinctively for your glasses on the bedside table. What you find instead is that there is no bedside table. 

You jolt out of your sleepy stupor and squint around – this is definitely not the room you've been sleeping in the past few nights. You run a hand through your hair, trying to remember the night before and— 

Oh right. This is her place. 

You begin to work your way around the bedroom, trying to piece your outfit from last night back together. The only piece of clothing that ends up unaccounted for is your tie – your father would be ashamed, but you decide you can do without it. 

You make your way out of the bedroom, and take in the rest of the apartment. It's not that big, but it's filled to the brim with various knick knacks – dice, cards, poker chips. It's impossible to get around without stepping on something. You catch the time on the microwave in the kitchen – 12:30, meaning your flight's been off the ground for half an hour already. Just your luck. 

You find her on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. You almost don't recognize her at first, without the makeup and slinky dress. She almost looks human this way. 

"Glad to see somebody's fiiiiiiiinally up," she says, though she doesn't turn to look at you. "You miss your flight?" 

"How did you-" you start to say, but she cuts you off. 

"You wouldn't stop talking about it. Everything was ‘gosh, I shouldn't be doing this my last night here' or ‘I guess it's ok, I'm leaving tomorrow!' Pretty hard to ignore!" 

You vaguely remember saying something along those lines, and you flush. "Sorry," you say. 

"It's fiiiiiiiine." She drags her words out in a way you hadn't noticed last night. You kind of like it – she sounds like one of those old divas from black and white films. "I'm used to it!" 

You frown. She means it as an off-hand comment, but you feel like there's a lot behind that – "I'm used to it." Granted, you haven't known her long, but there's something telling about the way she refuses to look at you now. 

You change the subject. 

"So, uh, last night was amazing!" You start, and though you don't realize the double meaning until it's all the way out of your mouth, you let it sit. Both statements are accurate. But she cocks an eyebrow at you, so you elaborate anyways. "Like, the way you just walked in and won so much money without batting an eyelash!" You laugh. "I bet you've just got all of the luck!" 

You come to stand next to her, leaning slightly over her balcony, and she laughs again. It's not as much for show as it was in the casino, but still confident. You get the strangest feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

"That's right!" she says. "I've got aaaaaaaall of the luck." 

"Wow! How does one person even get that much luck anyways?" You mean it as a joke (you remember a lot of joking from last night) but it has an effect on her. 

Her grin fades away, her shoulders slump, and you can almost feel that aura of confidence vanish. Gently, she brings her scarred hand up to her face, to touch the cheek just under her missing eye. That's when she says, glumly, "When you have as many bad breaks as I did, you're bound to get lucky one day." 

For a moment, all you can do is stand there, awkward with awe, but you feel compelled to break the silence somehow. So you ask, "What is your real name anyways, Miss ‘Lady Luck'?" 

She hesitates for only a moment before grinning again. 

"Vriska." 

\----

You decide maybe you won't reschedule your flight just yet. 

Another night or two couldn't hurt. 

\----

john 

hey

hey john

stop ignoring my texts or i swear im putting out a missing person warrant on your ass

geez! ok, what's up?

what how are you so calm about this  
you were supposed to be back a week ago is whats up

oh, that! 

that

well i started winning money again, so i decided i'd stay here for a little longer! but don't worry, i told  
my dad and my boss already.  
though i still think she's going to fire me after this, haha. 

wait wait hold up how are you winning money at vegas  
its like fucking soviet russia there  
you dont win money  
money wins you

well, guess i just found a good luck charm. ;) 

oh god dont tell me that atrocity of an emoticon means what i think it does  
you found a girl didnt you

maybe! 

john this is crazy  
how are you even earning enough money to keep paying the hotel

i'm not! she's letting me stay at her place.  
she's really cool, actually. i think you'd like her. 

i wouldnt count on it

\----

Three weeks roll past, and the cash keeps rolling in. You go with Vriska to casino after casino, and every night, you manage to walk out with more money than you started with. You still don't know how she does it, but she has a sort of sixth sense for knowing when games will pay out, and when they stop being lucrative. You're a prankster at heart, always looking for the trick behind every feat. But with her, you're stumped. 

You're starting to think that maybe she is just that lucky. 

\----

Tonight, you're at one of the more upscale casinos, and the both of you have dressed for the occasion. You're wearing the best clothing you brought, and she's in that slinky black dress, stunning as the day you first saw her. You wrap your arm around her waist as you both walk in the door and grin; who'd have thought you'd ever have a girl like this at your side? 

The night goes well, as it usually does. She hovers around the blackjack tables for a few minutes before she picks the one that feels the luckiest. You both sit down together, and an elderly woman two seats away comments on what a lovely couple the two of you make. Vriska laughs her usual cackle as she begins to rake in poker chips, and you can't help but chuckle yourself, because you can't remember what your nights were like back home. How could you sit down to watch a movie by yourself when this life was waiting for you? 

When you start losing hands again, Vriska gives you the cue that it's time to leave, and the both of you gather your chips and go. 

"So what now, ‘Lady Luck'?" you ask her, cocking an eyebrow. "Got your eye on any of the slot machines?" 

Vriska crosses her arms and casts a discerning eye out at the rest of the casino. After a good minute, she turns her attention back to you. "I don't see anything yeeeeeeeet," she says. "But I'll keep looking while you get drinks." 

You roll your eyes. "The usual?" 

"The usual." 

The time it takes you to go to the bar, order something for the both of you, and get back cannot take you more than ten minutes, but by the time you do, she's gone. 

You frown, but don't let it trouble you yet – surely she's just gone to sit somewhere nearby. Perhaps one of the nearby tables got lucky. Vriska isn't hard to spot in a crowd and though you can't see her nearby, it's a big place, so you start to look around, drinks still in hand. 

But after each Vriska-less table you pass, your worry grows. Why would she leave without telling you? You stop by a table every now and then, to ask the other gamblers if they've seen her, but most are too drunk to remember their own names, let alone the face of a girl they don't know. 

You're about to give up hope when you're stopped by the dealer from the table you two had played at earlier. "You looking for your girlfriend?" he asks, and you nod without even thinking of the implication. "Well you're out of luck. She's long gone. Might as well go home." 

You frown and walk off without another word. Even if you haven't been able to find her, you're sure she wouldn't just leave you behind. You decide to keep searching. 

But after half an hour, there's still no sign of her. 

You down both the drinks in your hand, and you get a taxi back to her place. 

\----

The door to her apartment is locked, like it was when you left. You don't have a key, but you don't have any other options either. 

You sit outside, and you wait. 

\----

You're jolted awake when the door opens with a slam, and there she is. You don't know what time it is, but it's late, and you can feel a headache coming on. 

You scramble to get to your feet, and you follow her inside. 

The first thing that Vriska does when she gets inside is pull out an empty suitcase. You stand in the doorway, hoping that she might decide to give you an explanation, but as she dumps in a second pile of clothing, you realize you're not going to get anything if you don't catch her attention. 

"What are you doing?" 

She snaps up to look at you, finally allowing you a good look at her face. There's a sort of fire burning behind her eye that immediately catches your attention, but that's not all. Smeared makeup. A cut lip. A swollen cheek. 

You change the question. 

"What happened?" 

Vriska laughs, but it's short and bitter. "The fucking casino happened," she says, and she grabs a few die off the floor and tosses them into the suitcase as well. 

You frown. "The casino did this to you?" 

"They don't take well to winners here, John." She shuts the suitcase with a dull thud. "Looks like my lucky break is over." 

"But that's illegal!" You realize how stupid you sound almost immediately, but you continue on anyways. "They can't just beat you up because you're lucky. You could go to the cops or something-" 

"Are you really that dense?" she snaps. "You've been here for three weeks and you can't even tell when somebody's cheating!" There's a frantic, feral edge to her voice, as though she might lash out at any moment. 

You take in a deep breath. You know you should have been expecting it – you knew nobody could be that lucky – but you can see your image of Lady Luck crumbling before your eyes, and you think she can see it too. You only ask one question. "How?" 

"I bribed the dealers!" she says, throwing her hands up in the air. She's yelling, but you don't feel like it's directed at you. "I gave them a cut of the money I won, and they tipped the odds in my favor. And then one of them had to rat me out-" Her voice cuts off, and she turns away. 

Silence falls for the next few minutes, and Vriska continues to pack. It's clear that she's making no attempt to get everything – she just grabs what she can as fast as she can, and tries to fit everything in. 

"Where are you going?" you ask finally. She's halfway out the door, but she turns back to face you. 

"Don't know." 

"Let me come with you." 

Vriska doesn't hide her emotions, and you've seen a lot of them in the past three weeks – victorious, upset, aroused, melancholic. But this one is new. The only word you can think for it is "heartbroken." 

"Go home, John." 

And she leaves. 

\----

Despite yourself, you stay another few days, to see if she'll return. You don't go to any casinos - you don't think you could without her. Instead, you sit on her couch and watch some of the DVDs she left behind. You wish you had known she was a Nic Cage fan. 

But after three days, it's clear to you that she's not coming back. Not even to get the rest of her things. 

It's three and a half weeks late, but you finally go home. 

\----

hey  
heard you were back in town

yeah. guess i am. 

vegas finally stop treating you like a king

sort of. 

dont tell me after all of that you lost your money

no, i've still got the money. good thing, too, because i was right about my boss.  
at least i got something to tide me over i guess. 

well thats a relief  
still cant believe you came back from that trip with anything in your pockets at all  
never heard of anybody walking away a rich man from those casinos

yeah. it is kind of weird.  
guess i just caught a lucky break. 

  



End file.
